


Freedom Fighters

by Army C (arh581958)



Series: Comfort [9]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Bottom!Mickey, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I just really wanted Ian sucking on Mickey's nipples, M/M, Nipple Licking, Nipple Plau, Nipple Play, Top!Ian, nipple fetish, nipple sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey’s so deep into this shit that he can’t even remember a time before Ian, pre-Ian, before Ian. It’s just always been Ian. Being apart from Ian, as faggy as it sounds and he’ll never say it out loud, feels like he’s missing a large part of himself because it's only when he's with Ian that he really feels free. He thinks, that maybe, it's the same for Ian too. </p><p>“Damn right.” He grins, flipping them over so he’s on top. He stares at Ian’s face for a really long time. It plays so many memories in his head down to the time that he first straddled the ginger’s chest with a tire iron above his head. This is a testament to how far they’ve gone—he isn’t snarling at anymore, but he’s smiling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom Fighters

**Author's Note:**

> It's a little something-something. It originally had about two hundred words of Mickey Milkovich's self-guilt for Ian becoming bipolar. I don't know. But while watching the clips, something on Mickey's face just sorta implied that he felt guilty for pushing Ian away, and that's something he's never forgiven himself for. I might explore this a little more in the future. For now, I thought it was too depressing to write. So you guys get this fluffy little thing! Enjoy~ 
> 
> **Not Beta Read. Open for Volunteers.**

Mickey’s forgotten the time when he didn’t do shit just for Ian—ever since that time, ever since he came to realize that what he feels inside is that little miracle called love and let himself admit it, and—oh hell—even before then if he ever is truly honest with himself. He’s been enraptured by the redheaded male Gallagher since they first banged. It hasn’t changed. It only grew.

He’s so deep into this shit that he can’t even remember a time before _Ian_ , pre-Ian, before Ian. It’s just always been _Ian_. But, he can remember a time before _this_ Ian—an Ian who isn’t Ian but _still is_. He hates himself for comparing the two but sometimes he can’t help it. Ian _then_ and Ian _now_ are two different Ians, and sometimes he can’t help reconciling the two together. He loves them both.

“Hey,” Ian says, pulling Mickey away from his thoughts. It’s clear in the tone that he’s been awake for quite some time now but hasn’t gone out of bed. They sometimes wake up like this, in the middle of the night, for no reason. Perhaps it because they’re both scared that the other would disappear much like before. So they lie awake in each other’s’ arms, just holding on.

“Hey,” Mickey answers in his own raspy voice. His throat is sore because he feels like he hasn’t had a good night in ages. He’s been constantly on the edge for days. He knows it’s bad for Ian. At the back of his mind, the rationale part of him keeps telling him to stay away, but he doesn’t want to disappear on Ian again so he chooses to day. Being apart from Ian, as faggy as it sounds and he’ll never say it out loud, feels like he’s missing a large part of himself.

Ian traces his hand over Mickey’s face. “What’s up? You seem out of it.”

Mickey shrugs and turns his head side so that he’s facing the red head, without having to move his whole body. He’s got his arms behind his head while lying down on his back. “Quit worrying, Red, I’m just thinkin’.”

Ian quirks his eyebrow. “Thinkin’, Mick? You?” He teases, pressing his fingers over the line on Mickey’s forehead. “Doesn’t that make your head hurt too much?”

“Asshole.” Mickey bats Ian’s hand away with a surly expression. “Yeah? So what if I am? Droppin’ outta high school don’t mean I’m stupid, ayt? I can think. I _do_ think.” _I think more now than I’ve ever had to think about life before._ He doesn’t say it out loud. “Sometimes, I might be thinking too much about your ginger-ass.” He regrets it immediately after he says it.

Ian’s smile is blinding even in the dim bedroom filled only by street light. He’s propped on one elbow, lying on his side, facing Mickey. “Is that you’re way of saying that you can’t keep your mind off me, Mick?” He licks his lips then licks a wet line one the side of Mickey’s chest, just there the sheets ended.

“N—no.” Mickey shudders but doesn’t move away from Ian’s ministration. “I just—god damn, Gallagher—!” His toes curl underneath the sheets when Ian start laving at his clavicle. Ian’s tongue moves in with practiced precision, tracing patterns that he just _knows_ will drive Mickey insane. “I was talkin’, ayt? Don’t that mean that you gotta listen or some shit?” He says, pulling Ian by the hair.

Ian pulls back, pressing his lips together, but then nods. He’s got a serious expression on his face. Mickey doesn’t like it. For all that he loves Ian Gallagher’s stupid face, he doesn’t like it when it gets like that—serious and dead—because it reminds him of what Ian’s like when he’s down. He wants to kiss it away.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling Ian by the back of his neck and planting a firm kiss on the redhead’s lips. It’s sweet and passionate. They’ve gone a long way from when kissing was just a prelude to sex. Now, they kiss just for the heck of it, the fun of it, just for the sake of kissing. It’s a meeting of lips without any real intention except to exchange physical affection.

When they part, Ian’s eyes are glossed over, lips quivering.

Mickey frowns. “What the fuck are you cryin’ for?”

“I love you,” is what Ian says instead, burying his face in Mickey’s neck. “I love you so much, Mickey.”

Mickey just holds him, hands firm on the back of Ian’s head, cradling his boyfriend to his chest. “Ayy, me too, Gallagher, I loveya too.” He whispers so quietly that Ian couldn’t have heard it between his rough breaths. He’s watched this Gallagher grow into a man, and maybe, if he’s honest, has loved him since the beginning. That’s something he isn’t afraid to say now. “I love ya too, Ian.”

Ian starts to cry harder, with neither of them knowing why. He half-crawls on top of Mickey, long gangling limbs over Mickey’s shorter stubbly ones, hands gripping Mickey’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. He’s tears drip down Mickey’s neck, wetting their pillow, and his slobbering all over Mickey’s chest.

Mickey doesn’t mind any of that, or the discomfort of having a grown man lying on top of him. It’ll be a cold day in hell before he denies his boyfriend the comfort that he needs. They stay like that for a long time with Mickey carding his hands through Ian’s hair, until the younger man quiets down.

“You stop cryin’ there, Gallagher? ‘Cause I think the we need a new pillow now.” He teases.

Ian punches him on the shoulder for his effort. “Last time I check my _boyfriend_ ain’t no pussy.”

“Damn right.” Mickey grins, flipping them over so he’s on top. He stares at Ian’s face for a really long time. It plays so many memories in his head down to the time that he first straddled the ginger’s chest with a tire iron above his head. This is a testament to how far they’ve gone—he isn’t snarling at anymore, but he’s smiling. He watches Ian’s eyes trace over his torso, and he immediately knows what the redhead is thinking.

“Want something?” He asks, just maybe pushing his chest the teensiest bit forward.

Ian swallows loudly but shakes his head.

“Really?” Mickey continues the tease, rubbing his naked ass against Ian’s naked crotch. He knows he’s still wet down there from last night’s—or what is early this morning’s—round. He likes that there’s a little bit of Ian still inside him, marking him as owned—as loved. “Looks to me like junior here wants something.”

“Mickey,” Ian groans, pushing his hips up. He kneads Mickey’s ass-cheeks with both hands. A finger slips along the crease and feels Mickey’s sloppy loose hole. “Mickey can we—” He doesn’t even finish the question before Mickey’s sinking down on his cock. They both moan—Ian at the heat at Mickey at the stretch. They love it.

“Jesus, Gallagher, so fucking _huge_.” Mickey moans as he works up a stead rhythm. It isn’t really enough. Something about this whole thing doesn’t feel like it’s just for getting off. It might be sex, but that’s not really what they both want out of it. At times like this, he’s glad they invested in a good bed. He urges Ian up while he leans backwards, until Ian’s half on top of him. Without a word, he guides Ian’s lips to his chest.

Ian looks up at him curiously.

“I got what I want,” Mickey grouses, “You should get yours too.”

“You don’t find it weird?” Ian asks with so much uncertainty in his voice. It quivers. His hands tentatively roam up and down Mickey’s sides. “You really don’t find it weird that I like sucking them? Like a—like a kid?” Mickey clamps down on his cock as retaliation, pulling out another moan from him. “Mickey, fuck, don’t just do that!”

Mickey does it again. He’s smirking. “I’ve got your giant ginger cock up my ass. You think I’m about to judge you for your oral fixation?” At Ian’s incredulous look, he smacks his boyfriend on the head. “Fuck you. I know bit words like ‘oral fixation’. It’s when you always gotta have somethin’ in your mouth. So what if that something happens to be my nipple, ayy?”

Ian grins, nosing at it, lips wide enough to split his face. He takes Mickey’s hands and puts in on his head, fingers through his hair. Then, he puts his own hands on Mickey’s cock, making the smaller man moan. “Alright, let’s go this together. Tell me if you’re about to come.” Without further ado, he tucks his face into Mickey’s pecks and starts to suckle gently on Mickey’s nipple.

Mickey starts to move as well. He uses Ian’s head for balance while he bounces up and down with his thighs. It’s slow. Tonight they don’t need passionate furniture-breaking sex. They just need—something that binds them both together. He loses himself. Ian brings him to a headspace that makes him feel freer than the air.

Right here, right now, this is where Mickey wants to be—with Ian.

They communicate with their bodies, no need for words. Ian works his lips on Mickeys nipples while Mickey works Ian’s cock in his ass. It’s a feedback. It’s a loop. Mickey secretly loves this about them but he’ll never sat it aloud, because this right here isn’t about sex. It’s not about getting off. It’s about making love. It’s about saying everything that he’s been too afraid to say.

It took them so long to get here, but now they’re beginning to see happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> I think this--right here--is where this series ends. It's not _the_ end. There'll probably be more but this is going to be the last one in the line-up. 
> 
> Also, I think it needs more platonic non-sexual moments where they draw comfort form each other without actually having to _engage in sex_. What do you think? I mean, I've got a couple of ideas in my head like; watching movies and Ian suddenly pounces or Mickey wants something inside him; or, Mickey panicking the hell out and all Ian just had to do is touch his chest, near his nipples, to clam him down; or, the first awkward time that Ian asks Mickey about his nipples outside of sex. Otherwise, if I keep doing it like this, it starts to feel like an unhealthy obsession, and it makes me want to stop. What do you guys think? Please, do tell me in your comments~


End file.
